A Broken Poem
Everything is beautiful, everything is true, the robe of entitlement is severed when I look at you Everything is golden, ...
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Everything is beautiful, everything is true, the robe of entitlement is severed when I look at you Everything is golden, ...
I always thank my God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. For in him you have been enriched in every way—wi...
The rain stopped almost as immediately as it began. It had pounded relentlessly on the tin roof for 20 minutes that afternoon; it had carved brown riv...
We were going to paint a house today. Bright blue paint clotted on our rollers and coated the brown grey concrete walls, peppering our clothin...
I am officially over halfway through my race! So here’s a packing blog! DISCLAIMER: I don’t really know what the men packed. So. Keep that...
I got to hold a baby yesterday. She was small, the size of a football, and weighed just about as much. 6 months old, with soft, dark skin the color ...
I wake up to something tickling my face. Panicked that a tarantula has infiltrated my mosquito net, I panicked at sat up prepared to fight. But it w...
She was the kind of woman you write poems about. Not love poems, not sonnets or lyrics or psalms. She would inspire courage and boldness, a song of re...
There wasn’t much to the house, or at least in the context of what I’ve known a house to be. Crooked wood paneling, tin roofing, a...
The line winded endlessly through the Bucharest airport. Our squad had spent the night on the floor in a corner by the bathrooms and now we stared ble...